From Darkness Into Light
by MadelineZ
Summary: AU. When a sixth year student finds herself receiving unwanted attention from the Malfoys, Severus Snape steps in. SSOC Please read and review.
1. Of Asphodel and Valerian

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I also, sadly, do not own Severus Snape. Pity. Anything you recognize belongs to the great JKR. Zipporah Stevens, however, belongs to me. No touchy.

Author's Note: I have to admit that I have read a great deal of fan fiction. I am not intentionally using anyone else's OC or plot. Please don't sue.

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Chapter 1: Of Asphodel and Valerian

Severus Snape stood at the front of the cavernous potions classroom, his arms folded, his long fingers caressing the folds of his teaching robes. The torches that flickered along the wall cast shadows on his face, making him look like some hideous gargoyle. Indeed, he would have seemed to be made of stone, if it were not for those glittering black eyes. Those eyes that saw everything and everyone; nothing escaped those eyes.

The students cast uneasy glances at their professor as they silently took their places for their first 6th year Advanced Potions class - in fact, their first class of the year. It was unusual for Snape to be in the classroom when they filed in. Usually he entered once the class was seated, with flaring black robes and a sour disposition. Today those bottomless eyes tore apart their souls; the silence was unbearable. Only Draco Malfoy seemed to be unaffected.

Zipporah Stevens slipped quietly into her seat at the back of the class, setting her satchel carefully on the pitted wood lab table. She winced as vials clinked in her bag, sounding loud in the silent room. She kept her eyes glued to the desk, knowing that Snape was glaring at her, _feeling_ that Snape was glaring at her. The girl kept her eyes down, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. Maybe if she just ignored him, he would just go away.

Of course, Professor Snape never "just went away".

"You are here," he began silkily, "to further your knowledge of the art that is potion making. The diligent will discover truth and power and enlightenment in this very room, the foolish will discover pain and humiliation. This year, you will be working with some very...hazardous...materials. I fully expect to have to send the majority of you to the hospital wing within the first week, slow-witted cretins that you are."

Snape paused noting each detail of each face before him. He began pacing deliberately through the room, pausing to glare at some, passing over others. "You are _not_ here to further inter-house rivalry, second guess me, or make nuisances of yourselves. _You will not_," he hissed, placing those long-fingered hands on Zipporah's desk and leaning in menacingly, "cause a disruption in this class."

He was close enough that she could smell him - cedar and cloves, as yet unadulterated with the day's scents - a paradox, a comfortable smell from a disquieting man. Zipporah looked up in spite of herself. Snape's eyes were magnetic, deep pools of darkness into which one could easily slip and drown. The girl began to sweat under the intensity of that stare. Snape paused for a moment longer to make his point, then moved on, much to Zipporah's relief. Zipporah forced herself to control her breathing and felt her pounding heart slow its rapid beat.

The reprieve did not last for long.

"Miss Stevens, what is the proper colour for a Euphoria Elixir?"

"Sunshine yellow, sir."

"Correct."

Snape stared at her for a moment, arms folded across his chest, before turning to Draco.

"Mr. Malfoy, what are the ingredients for a Hate Potion?"

"Asphodel, powdered bicorn horn, knotgrass, and armadillo bile."

"Very good, Mr. Malfoy. Five points to Slytherin"

Zipporah scowled. Malfoy had missed valerian in his list of potion ingredients. _First Snape talks about not furthering inter-house rivalry, then he plays favorites. It's almost like he wants people to hate him. _As the dark-haired girl frowned at her professor, brown eyes met glittering black. Snape was sneering at her, eyebrow raised. Zipporah looked away; she knew enough to keep her mouth shut.

From there, the questions flew thick and fast. Other students were interrogated, but it seemed every other question was aimed at her. Miss Stevens, Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, Miss Stevens, Mr. Malfoy, Miss Stevens.

"Miss Stevens, what is the use of Felix Felicis?"

Wanting to be out of the spotlight, Zipporah deliberately answered the question incorrectly, hoping that Snape would leave her alone. "It makes the drinker invisible."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Detention," he spat out. "When you know the correct answer, you will give it. Stay after class."

As Snape swept back to the front of the classroom, Zipporah grimaced. Out of the frying pan, into the fire…

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

As the rest of the class filed out of dungeon five, Zipporah gathered her books together, carefully putting her quill back in its case before putting it in her bag. She flipped her long braid over her shoulder and walked slowly up to Professor Snape's desk to await her sentence.

Snape sat back in his chair, his fingers steepled before him, staring at this quiet, serious-eyed girl. She had always sat at the back, trying to blend in to the shadows. He wondered idly if she often did that, or if it was just in his class. She seemed to want to escape notice; he did have that effect on some people.

Zipporah found herself uneasy under her professor's intense scrutiny. She gritted her teeth and forced herself not to fidget. She could not, however, force herself to return his gaze; instead, she looked straight ahead.

After a long moment, Snape broke the silence. "What are we to do with you?" he asked softly, deliberately. "The student intent on being inconspicuous, to her own detriment. The student so uncomfortable with scrutiny that she feels she needs to _lie_ to her professor?"

_He noticed_, thought Zipporah with some trepidation. _Well, of course he noticed._

"Perhaps you would like to sit at the front of the class for the remainder of the year, with Theodore Nott."

_No, absolutely not._ "Yes, sir."

"And you will return to this classroom at 8:00 this evening for your detention."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get out of my sight."

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Zipporah was surprised to find Hermione Granger waiting for her just outside the classroom door; the two had never been more than acquaintances. Hermione fell into step with the tall girl.

"We've got Advanced Arithmancy next. I thought I'd walk with you."

"We may be late for class." It didn't seem like the type of thing Hermione would do.

"Not if we hurry. So, did you actually know the answer to that question?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Yes."

Hermione looked perplexed. "Why did you give the wrong answer? I never could."

"I had enough of being put on the spot. One doesn't just tell Professor Snape to stuff it."

"You should never lie to Professor Snape. He always knows," Hermione said in her most know-it-all voice.

"I think I've figured that out, thanks."

The two girls walked in silence for a while. As they were about to go in to their next class, Hermione asked hesitantly, "Would you like to come study with me in the library after supper? Harry and Ron are impossible. It would be nice to have someone to bounce ideas off of."

Zipporah smiled at the bushy-haired girl. "Sure. I was going to go work on my potions homework anyway."

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The study session in the library that evening went well, with the exception of Hermione's annoying tendency to pretend she knew everything. Zipporah enjoyed having someone who actually did homework around; it made her feel like she wasn't so much of an anomaly. As she left for detention, Hermione shot her a sympathetic glance. "You do deserve it, you know."

"Thanks a lot," Zipporah replied dryly. "I'm sure that knowledge will help the evening go by more quickly."

Shortly thereafter, Zipporah let herself into dungeon five. Snape was already there, marking papers. He did not look up when she entered.

_How the hell did he manage to get marking on the first day?_ Zipporah placed herself conspicuously in view and cleared her throat.

Snape looked up and smirked. "Ah. The fool of the day. The first years managed to leave traces of their assignment all over the dungeon. You will clean it up without magic, including the spot on ceiling."

Zipporah sighed. "Yes, sir."

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A/N:

"Never lie to Professor Snape" is the genius of Rebecca Webb, and it's much funnier coming from her.


	2. Of Hot Water and Frost

All the usual disclaimers apply.

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Chapter 2: Of Hot Water and Frost

Zipporah woke at 5:46 the next morning out of sheer discomfort. She felt like she had lost a wrestling match with the Giant Squid. It had taken her three hours the previous night to scrub the dungeon to Professor Snape's satisfaction, and when she had returned to the Ravenclaw tower, she had not had the energy to change out of her school uniform. She had simply fallen into bed, shoes and all.

Now she disentangled herself from her covers and sat up with some difficulty. Snatching a clean uniform from the chair by her bed, she dragged herself off to the bathroom to see if some hot water wouldn't loosen her stiff muscles. The bathroom was empty at this hour - both the claw foot tubs and the showers were free. Zipporah opted for a tub, and, after summoning a privacy screen and disrobing, lowered herself slowly into the steaming water. Her muscles screamed with the effort, but soon began to unknot in the heat. The tall girl sighed with relief.

She soaked in the water until her fingers were beginning to prune, then carefully washed her hair and stepped out onto the cold stone floor, drying herself with one of the fluffy white towels that the house elves had stacked in the bathroom. After dressing, Zipporah stood staring at her reflection in the mirror as she brushed her hair dry. She saw a tall, dark-haired girl with brown eyes, an average body shape, and an unassuming face with a scattering of freckles across the nose and dark, tired circles under the eyes.

_Nothing to be excited about. A face no one would look at twice. _

After plaiting her hair, Zipporah stopped by her room to drop the previous day's clothing in the laundry basket. She stood for a moment, staring longingly at her bed, and sighed. _If I go back to sleep now, I'm going to wake up exhausted. I might as well write this week's Letter and get it over with._

Zipporah had lived with her father's brother and his wife from the time of her parents' death when she was five years old. She couldn't honestly say that the old house had been a particularly pleasant place to grow up, but she hadn't thought to complain. They had an excellent library, and she had been able to loose herself in the garden when tensions rose in the house. Her uncle took what he felt was his responsibility toward her seriously; mostly, this consisted of making sure she had enough food to eat and proper clothing. It was her aunt that required a weekly letter from her when she was at Hogwarts.

Zipporah picked up her satchel from the floor and descend the stairs to the common room. The common room was still and silent, the only sound the crackling of the newly lit fire in the fireplace. The Ravenclaw smiled; she loved the silence, although this morning it might lull her to sleep. Silence allowed her to work without distraction, to read and think and dream.

Choosing a seat at the table closest to the flickering light of the fire, Zipporah pulled a fresh roll of parchment out of her bag, along with her quill and ink, and began her Letter. She had not much to say, as it was only the second day of classes, and she had decided that the less that was said about her detention, the better. Her short note completed, she climbed up to the Owlery, and soon the Letter was winging its way to its destination.

That completed, the tall girl found an out-of-the-way nook to curl up with her leather-bound copy of _The Poetry of Robert Frost: The Collected Poems_.

"Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow..."

Zipporah read until her stomach growled, reminding her that it was time for breakfast.

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Severus Snape glowered over his morning coffee. It was much too early to be up, and much, much too early to be watching several hundred students make fools of themselves over breakfast.

"Severus, do have a muffin. The house elves have outdone themselves this morning."

Snape shot a glare at the headmaster, who was cheerily offering him a plate. He would certainly _not_ have a muffin; it was much too early to think about _eating_. But he supposed he'd better take one of those damned things or the headmaster would keep prodding him. Severus took one muffin between his thumb and forefinger, as if it were something distasteful (which indeed it was), dropped it on his plate, and resolved to think no more of it.

As the potion master refilled his coffee, his eyes strayed over the students assembled before him; most were either stuffing their faces or chatting animatedly with their friends. There were a few, however, who were not. Draco was setting something on fire; Snape let it pass. Miss Granger was studying madly for some test or other, as usual. Miss Stevens…

Zipporah Stevens was sitting a little apart from the other Ravenclaws, twirling a strand of dark hair around one finger. There was some sort of leather bound book propped up against the juice jug; she had an enraptured look on her face. Somehow, Snape doubted that was homework. Probably some sort of romance novel, although she didn't quite seem the type.

_What __is__ she reading?_ The potions master stared at the girl for a few moments, as if the answer were more likely to be legible on her face than on the spine of the book.

_And why the hell do I care?_ Snape put the 6th year student out of his mind, and his eyes fell to his plate. Where there had once been a muffin, there were now just crumbs. He scowled. He had actually eaten the damned thing.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Double 6th year potions with Snape. Again. She was early. It was better to be early, to have time to set up and to scan her notes. The past several weeks of classes had been challenging, but none more so than Potions, and Zipporah had begun to take a defensive stance. If Snape was going to pick on her, she would be ready.

Professor Snape seemed to be interrogating her more these days. Perhaps it was her new location in the room, perhaps it was because she was seated with Theodore Nott, the rather mousy-looking Slytherin with a genius for the class. And she was answering more and more questions correctly, crumpling less often under the pressure. All the same, it wouldn't do to slack. She was half-way through her notes from the previous class when Theodore slumped into the seat beside her. She scarcely noticed him. He didn't speak to her, not unless he couldn't help it.

Today, however, was different.

"Hey, Stevens."

"Mmmhmm…" Zipporah kept her eyes on her notes. _Ingredients of the Moretanias Potion have included valerian, mid-winter frost, mashed silk-worm…_

Theodore elbowed her in the ribs, hard. "Hey, Stevens!"

Zipporah looked up, irritated. "Yes, what is it?"

"Professor Snape wants to see you in his office."

"What, before class?"

"Yes, you numbskull, before class." Theodore rolled his eyes. "As in two minutes ago."

Zipporah laid the sheaf of notes down on the pitted surface of the lab table. She stood and walked out of the room, trying to look confident and failing miserably. It was only a few steps down the corridor, then she was facing the solid wooden door to Professor Snape's office. The tall girl took a deep breath and knocked.

"You're late."

Zipporah pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it carefully behind her. Snape was sitting at his desk, almost perfectly still.

"Nott just found me, sir."

Snape said nothing, just raised an eyebrow in her general direction. Zipporah fought the urge to copy his quizzical expression. That would only end badly. Professor Snape would _not_ like it when he thought you were laughing at him, and she wasn't feeling particularly suicidal today.

"Sir?"

Snape leaned back in his chair. "Miss Stevens, if the alchemic value of hellebore were 4.0021 instead of 4.0, how would that affect its reaction with crocodile teeth in a Shrinking Solution?"

_What. The. Hell._ Zipporah could only stare.

"Now, Miss Stevens."

The words seemed to kick Zipporah's mind into gear, and her thoughts went whizzing toward a solution.

"I suppose that would mean that a precipitate would form unless one combined it with…"

"An excess amount of asphodel."

"Yes, sir. Or unless one stirred the intermediate potion an extra quarter-turn counter-clockwise."

Professor Snape's eyes narrowed. "Thank you, Miss Stevens. Now get to class."

"Yes, sir."

Zipporah turned and left the room quietly and walked on silent feet back to the potion's classroom. _What was that all about?_

She didn't have a lot of time to muse. She was just sitting down on her tall stool when Professor Snape swept in to begin the class.

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A/N: Poem is "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost.


End file.
